


Swimming in your Effervescent Dream

by ShiDreamin



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Chess Metaphors, First Crush, Jealousy, M/M, Male My Unit | Byleth, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Zine: Golden Dearest – A Claudeleth Zine (Fire Emblem)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:07:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27405514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShiDreamin/pseuds/ShiDreamin
Summary: “Like?” Claude whispers. His voice comes out the slightest bit strangled, his breath squeezed tight in his throat. But he’s so close to this. This meaning. This word.The reason why Byleth is a friend different from the rest.-Yuri's making a whole lot of assumptions about Claude and Byleth's relationship. It might, possibly, perhaps, get into Claude's head. Maybe.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth & Claude von Riegan, My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan, Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc & Claude von Riegan
Comments: 14
Kudos: 57
Collections: Zine Pieces





	Swimming in your Effervescent Dream

They unearth a trickster underneath the academy.

It’s Claude, really, who discovers the winding tunnels and hidden rooms, the daggers slipped in boots and the cloaks lined with jewels. Edelgard rolls her eyes as Dimitri praises his skill, and then Byleth swoops in as always, cool and composed and always ready to take on new students.

Sometimes, Claude wonders if Edelgard and Dimitri are angry, knowing that their little group are almost all Golden Deer. That it’s Byleth who Ashe follows, his bow drawn taut, Byleth who Linhardt watches, fingers swirling with something yet unknown.

Byleth who Claude watches fumble with the purple haired thief.

“So what do you say, friend?” Yuri’s laugh travels through the abyss walls, chilling, watching. His hand is on Byleth’s own, leaning in, smiling that crooked thing; Claude would know. It’s a mask he’s so familiar with.

Perhaps that’s why Byleth is so good at shattering it.

“You don’t mean friend,” Byleth murmurs. Yuri laughs again, hollow.

“Don’t I? What do you mean?” He’s playing with fire, Claude thinks, except Byleth does nothing more than blink owlishly and turn his head. That stare Claude finds himself under, that tracking gaze Byleth so often pierces him with, is gone from this man under the brick roads.

“Friends aren’t something so easily gained. Claude doesn’t use it like that.”

“Claude, huh? What does a child know about true friendship?”

A child? The impulse to snap out that he’s not a boy, or a kid, or one of the village brats, stings. He’s an adult now, strong and independent. Making his way through the world, with his head held high and his arrows held tight.

Alone, perhaps, if Teach had not picked him.

His chest burns.

“Claude is more mature than you think.” It would be Byleth who thinks so. He’s one of the few to view Claude as someone other than a troublesome prankster. Yuri hums, amused, appraising, finally dropping his hand from Byleth’s shoulder.

“Sure, sure. I suppose you’d say that about your friends… if that’s what he is to you.”

-

Yuri, much to Claude’s chagrin, joins the Golden Deer.

“You’d protect him with your life, wouldn’t you?” Yuri’s voice sneaks between the clink of the knight against the wooden tiles, the otherwise drifting afternoon broken. It’s difficult to find time to sneak away from the monastery for a few chess games like this; Claude too often finds himself saddled with training or chores, and though he hates to admit it, cleaning dishes is not exactly his strong suit.

Cleaning house, however, is. There’s a decent amount of gold he’s collected from these games, and if he’s clever enough today he’ll double his earnings.

“Him?” Claude hums, watching Yuri remove his pawn with a bishop, only to take it with a knight moments later. Yuri narrows his eyes, theatrical, a slow warning that there is some plan spinning in his mind. One, Claude assures, he will overcome.

“Byleth,” Yuri answers, cool, moving his rook. He points to Claude’s king, his grin toothy, “you’d protect him with your life. With the life of all your little friends.” His hands dart from the rooks to the knights, the bishops, Claude’s queen. “You’re protecting him now.”

“That’s a lot to project onto a chess game,” Claude laughs. If this little wartime roleplay was what Yuri considered a scheme, maybe Claude would have to reevaluate his expectations of the other.

“Is it? So you wouldn’t protect him with your life?” If Yuri’s words are meant to be a jab, they’re sorely failing. Claude takes two more pieces, a rook and a pawn, with easy satisfaction at the cost of a bishop. It’s sad to see… Lysithea, perhaps? Go so soon, but he’s comforted by the knowledge that she has a long life ahead of her with the class.

“Of course I’d protect Teach. That’s what a leader is meant to do,” Claude intones. Yuri advances a knight closer, something that could put Claude in check if not for the rook he had placed beforehand.

“Really? Protect one person beyond the rest?” Yuri’s knight is taken, then Claude’s rook, then a pawn, then a bishop. He’s advancing, ever so slowly, closer to Claude’s king. Byleth. He swallows, his chest tightening despite the sound being that of glass against wood, and not steel against steel. “A leader should make sacrifices for the greater good, don’t you think?”

“Careful,” Claude warns, a pawn for a pawn, “you’re starting to sound like Edelgard. Don’t want your new leader charm to wear off so soon, do you?” Yuri laughs, hollow, watching, that same sliver of a thing Claude had heard echoing underground. When he meets Claude’s eyes once more, he finds himself under the gaze of a wolf.

“Isn’t it your precious _teach’s_ job to protect you?” He takes Yuri’s pawn. Another one. A bishop. Yuri takes Lorenz, and Ignatz, and Hilda. Then, with Yuri’s final knight (is that Balthus? Constance? Hapi?) he puts Claude in check by taking his queen.

Claude falls.

“Or is it different as friends?”

He’s lost.

-

If it’s difficult to find free time to hustle a round of chess, it’s even harder to sneak away to break some monastery rules. Or perhaps it _should_ be harder, and certainly would be, under Manuela’s or Hanneman’s watchful eyes.

Instead, Claude wields the garden key at any time, so long as Byleth is present when he’s mixing his concoctions.

“I’m surprised you let me do this. Aren’t you supposed to lecture me on safety?” Claude jokes. Though Byleth is so often stuck in professor mode, Claude finds him chatty only at times like this, mixing away poisonous fumes and coughing through the thin mask he wears as protection.

“Nothing is safer than you feeling safe,” Byleth points out. See? On an ordinary occasion, Byleth would register Claude with a fond glance and move on. “What should I do next?”

“Mash the leaves.” It’s easy enough to fill the air with aimless chatter and directions. Though some plants cause the most wicked deaths, it’s only through careful filtration and precise measurements that Claude can extract their poison to the maximum potential. Having Byleth around, surprisingly, is great help for exerting the exact amount of pressure necessary to juice cracked fruit nuts.

The time together is peaceful. Nice. The kind of thing younger Claude had only ever dared to hope to dream of.

He blames Yuri for the words that pass his lips.

“Teach,” Claude murmurs, “what do you think being friends means?”

If he’s caught Byleth by surprise, he shows no indication, squeezing away at those nuts as though they owe him gold, and not a small sum of it. Claude can almost hear their cries for mercy—oh, no, wait, that’s just the grass’ screams for help that he’s chopping up. It’s not until they shift to boiling the juices that Byleth replies.

“Protecting them,” Byleth says. He’s rolling the masher between his fingers, and though Claude’s eyes are on the pot he can feel Byleth’s boring into him. “Caring for them. Thinking about them, wanting the best for them. Supporting them no matter what. Letting them know that you’re there.”

“That’s a lot. I don’t know how you have the time to do that with all your friends, Teach.” Claude laughs. He had been expecting something gushy and sweet, along the lines of the fairytales Hilda shares with Lysithea after a good long night of studying. Certainly nothing like this long script, something that would never have left Byleth’s mouth when he had first arrived at the academy. It’s so like Teach though, to place protection as his number one priority.

“I don’t.” The water boils.

“But that’s how I think of you.” A bubble bursts.

“Oh? Is that favoritism from our _deer_ professor?” Byleth grimaces at the pun, earning a slanted grin. The juice and leaves slide into the steaming water, the pot lid snapped securely shut the moment they begin to wilt.

“Maybe. I’m not sure yet.” That, perhaps, is the most interesting tidbit Byleth has slid Claude yet. For all their moody silence, uncertainty is not something Byleth admits often.

“What’s to be unsure about?”

He’s expecting Byleth to give him an essay formatted response about the moral dilemma of a professor having favorites, when it’s really only human nature. Or maybe Teach will surprise him with a short but famously savage line. If Claude is really lucky, he’ll get to hear a story about Jeralt.

He’s not expecting Byleth to move around the pot, his hands on Claude’s shoulder, his eyes locked on Claude’s own. He’s searching, Claude realizes, for a response. A question that’s been posed that even Byleth can’t answer.

All because of Claude.

“I wonder why you fascinate me so.” Claude grins. Is he preening? Maybe. He’s allowed that much, he thinks, if he can cause such intrigue.

“What’s so fascinating about me?” He’s definitely preening. Better yet, Byleth lets him.

“Hmm… your clever schemes. Your perfect aim. The shooting style you use, and your familiarity with the sword. You would make a good hire.” For Teach, that’s probably the highest honor he can bestow. Claude would bow if not for the close proximity.

“Oh, I want all my friends to be assassins too, Teach,” Claude teases, waggling his eyebrows. He’s not lying, even—it would be nice to have friends who would be capable of protecting themselves. It would be even nicer to know that their assassin skills wouldn’t be used on _him_.

“It’s not just your skills,” Byleth admits. He shakes his head, releasing Claude and taking a step back. “It’s strange. You’re compassionate, and kind, and though you hide it I know you care more deeply than any member of this school. But beyond that, being with you feels right. It is easier to talk with you. It’s almost like…”

“Like?” Claude whispers. His voice comes out the slightest bit strangled, his breath squeezed tight in his throat. But he’s so close to this. This meaning. This word.

The reason why Byleth is a friend different from the rest.

“Never mind. I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“Huh?! I’m _old enough now!”_ Claude barks, his cheeks flaring hot despite himself. It’s bad enough he has Judith to deal with; if Byleth of all people start treating him like a kid as well he may as well hand in his resignation letter to the Riegan name right this second.

Byleth breaks, laughing, his head tossed back with mirth as Claude seethes. His chest hurts again, that growing sensation that’s lingered and itched around Byleth, _only_ Byleth, his very first friend.

Maybe that’s why it burns so, a fire eating Claude alive.

“I’ll tell you in the future!” Byleth chuckles, though it’s awfully hard to take his word for it when he’s still wheezing from laughter. Claude frowns, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

“It’s a promise then,” Claude huffs, “In five years you’ll tell me at the reunion, right Teach?” The last of Byleth’s chuckles dwindle away, until he’s capable of meeting Claude’s eyes again, that spark of joy still twinkling in his eyes.

“I suppose I don’t have a choice, do I?” Byleth relents. Claude lets himself indulge in that same spark, even at his expense, nodding.

“Promise?” He needles, just once. Because Byleth will allow him this, this moment, this conversation, this burning against a wall of deadly flora. Because there’s a ringing in his head, loud, hollow, that he must do his best to protect Byleth, that he must be dedicated to Byleth, that he must care for him. That if he doesn’t, a knight will slither in, with wolf eyes and eagle talons and the roar of a lion.

And the golden king will fall.

“I promise,” Byleth swears, and in a dramatic flourish Claude will eternally blame Lorenz for, drops to his knees with a wink that’s all Claude, “as your friend, I’ll always stay by your side.”

“I suppose,” Claude laughs, mirroring Byleth’s flourish with his own, “that I can’t ask for anything more.”

-

It’s going to be a long wait.

**Author's Note:**

> POSTING TIME PART 2  
> When with this endless zine backlog end? The answer is never because I have no self-control
> 
> It has been my honor to mod for, write for, and draw for [ Golden Dearest, a Claudeleth zine ](https://twitter.com/claudelethz/) I wrote another fic focusing on F!Byleth and Claude that I've already posted, and an icon set on my twitter! The zine was a whole lot of fun and includes over 100 pages of good ol claudeleth content if you're interested in leftover sales ^^
> 
> I pinch-hitted this fic later on after going through the zine and realizing we were missing some good ol male Byleth content. When Claude really realizes his first crush it's going to hit him harder than thoron, that's for sure. Harder than Hilda? Debatable.
> 
> Judge my life choices on [ twitter ](https://twitter.com/shidreamin/)


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